Two weeks on from Brachytherapy - how am I doing?

It's been a bizarre couple of weeks. Gloria took the week after my operation working from home, with the expectation that I would be too feak and weeble to look after myself. As mentioned previously, I was a bit groggy from the anaesthetic and sore from the needles, but that was it.

The second week has found me hale and hearty, with a good appetite, keen to go on long walks, no fatigue. I had one night when I was up twice in the night - too much water the evening before, methinks! Waterworks are a little slower and I'm giving them time - seem to be spending a lot of time on Twitter, on the loo. That stratagem seems to work OK and I've not been caught short. Mind you, the beach side walks are peppered with public loos so there's unlikely to be a problem round here.

Radioactive condoms?

Gloria's dedication to my comfort and pleasure knows no bounds and therefore, on a shopping expedition to Tesco, she decided to wander the condom aisle, looking for (in her words) "radioactive condoms".

The thing is this; when you've had brachytherapy for prostate cancer you have dozens of radioactive "seeds" inserted into the prostate. As you know, (well you do now) the prostate delivers the fluid in which sperm float and so, if you have sex ... when you have sex ... the fluid may possibly contain one or more of these seeds. It's not something that a lady of Gloria's delicate sensibilities wants floating up into her personal areas, not least because it could in theory do her damage.

The day of the brachytherapy operation

The morning dawned bright and clear and I was up with the lark ... well, with the alarm, actually that Gloria had set for six-thirty. I needed to be up quickly because my last chance to eat was before seven-thirty and I didn't want to faint with hunger before going down for the op at either 1pm or 3pm.

Gloria brought me tea and toast in bed - what a treat! Then we were up and about, getting some cereal down us before getting showered and putting the last things into the overnight bag. Then, the best part - a micro enema. Gloria had asked if she could administer it - absolutely not! It was a little tube of stuff with a long spout that had to be inserted right up your bum and then squeezed - and keep squeezing as you pull it out. Did that and then sat on the loo and waited. It didn't take long ... about five minutes and all of a sudden my back passage was clear and sparkly. Then it was time for a shower.

The pre-op before brachytherapy

It was a very cold day as Gloria and I emerged from the car into the multi-storey car park and shivered. We'd taken three quarters of an hour to cross town to the hospital and now, nearly at the top of the parking building, we had to find our way to the radiology and oncology department which was in the basement.

Once there though - Gloria with her computer bag, of course - we settled down for a short wait before a briefing from an enthusiastic young nurse. She wanted to talk all about our sex life, how well I wee and poo and a raft of other conversation items that would never grace a refined dinner table. Totally unfazed, she confidently reassured us about how most problems can be solved and that the operation is all about success. Indeed, the negatives seemed mostly to be about weeing or ejaculating radioactive seeds and the appropriate responses thereto.

First consultation with the clinical oncologist

With all the results in, I was swiftly given an appointment to attend the oncology clinic at the local hospital. It all starts to feel very real at this point as they confirm with you your treatment decisions and make the necessary arrangements.

Once again, Gloria came with me (she's a brick) and still didn't bring her laptop. You know it's serious when she's paying attention like that! The waiting room was light and airy and there was a low buzz of activity as people wandered in and out, some carrying folders, others looking important. We waited with a few other folk - a lot of old men, unsurprisingly - and pondered the fact that cancer patients can get free parking. One wonders why particularly that group is singled out for that privilege.

Five things to know about Prostate Cancer

In a blog like this, while I wait for something to happen (first consultant appointment next week), you the reader need something to keep you going so here are five top things that I've learned about the prostate and its associated cancer.

1. What is the prostate?

It's a little gland, typically about the size of a walnut, that sits around the urethra (the tube down which your wee comes from the bladder), above and behind your testicles. This means that if it swells, your flow of urine is restricted. So, one of the symptoms of prostate cancer for example is difficulty passing water - although it might just be that your prostate has grown, because the little blighter will do that all through your life (just like your ears). What's it for, I hear you cry. It makes the fluid in which your sperm are transmitted, through the urethra, when you come. If you have the prostate removed, you'll have a dry orgasm whenever you have sex. In other words, you still get the good bit, but without the mess.